Continental Breakfast
by BipolarMolar
Summary: Brendan makes Walker a continental breakfast, as promised. So Walker thinks he'd better show his appreciation! Posted the first chapter up originally, but now it's just a one-shot -complete.Involves Bralker.Brendan and Walker,some slash and...jam.


**Title: Continental Breakfast**

**Author: BipolarMolar **

**Disclaimer: No, sadly I don't own Hollyoaks. Only a matter of time.**

**Summary: Ok, it's like this. In Hollyoaks before, where Walker was insisting that Brendan owed him, Brendan said (in that brilliant Irish drawl) something like "I didn't promise to make you a continental breakfast, did I? I do that sometimes when I'm drunk." So thus, a plotbunny grew. A crackfic where Brendan promises to make Walker a continental breakfast. **

**So, I researched this and a continental breakfast usually consists of tea or coffee or hot chocolate with an assortment of pastries, rolls etc. **

**There will be slash, but I'm more concerned about the swearing. Not beta'd, all mistakes are mine.**

_**A few years before**_

"I'll make it, I swear. I'll serve- " Here he paused to hiccup.

"You're drunk, Brady." Walker raised his glass as if proposing a toast. Squinting at the contents, he drained it, slopping beer down his jacket.

"No, no, I'm just…um..." He threw back his own beverage in one gulp. Walker's eyes followed the bob of Brendan's Adam's apple, his pupils dilated.

"I'll do it, Walker. I'll make you a continental breakfast."

_**The present day**_

His eyes narrowed, taking in Walker slouching on the sofa, the glamorous purple walls of Chez Chez behind him. "So, you want _me_ to cook breakfast for you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You promised."

Brendan grunted, scraping the heel of his loafer across the floor in an act of sudden impatience.

"Do you really think my promises mean anything to someone like you?"

Walker looked back coolly, his face a mask.

"Promises mean something tome, _Brendan_. Maybe you've forgotten that."

Brendan watched him for a few moments. When Walker's expression didn't change, he got to his feet in one fluid motion. "I don't believe for one second, this is all you want."

His "visitor" was silent.

Brendan made his way to the door, opening it wide, hearing Walker's footsteps follow. He spun around abruptly, causing Walker to almost fall over. "And I can't promise I won't poison it."

Walker cracked a smile, stepping decisively through the door. As he crossed the threshold, he muttered "That sounds more like the Brendan Brady _I_ know."

Brendan knocked on the door, balancing the tray on his hip with his other hand. A sleepy "Come in!" reached his ears, so he pushed the door open with his foot. He entered the room, keeping an eye on the tray as the cup clinked against the cutlery. A curse slipped from his lips as he almost tripped on a T-shirt flung on the floor.

"Breakfast…"He said, by way of explanation, approaching the bed. There was no reply. Brendan sighed, nudging the bundle beneath the covers. "Simon! Food."

"Argh…" Walker groaned beneath the covers. He surfaced out from the fabric, pale and disorientated weak from sleep. Seeing him with his thick, brown hair standing up in all directions and his eyes closed against the rays of sunlight pouring in through the window, Brendan felt himself smile.

"Here," he said, a little softer. "Breakfast. As promised." He waited for Walker to sit up, which he eventually did, with a groan. He placed the tray on the man's covered lap, before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking beneath him. "I put a lot of work into that, Simon."

Walker blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes. He sat up, pushing the covers down to his stomach. Brendan's eyes widened, taking in the lean, smooth chest. Bare. "Sure it's not poisoned?" Walker asked, smiling sleepily. Brendan found himself staring at that smile, licking his own lips as he imagined leaning forward, just to kiss those lips. And Simon Walker, so tired and trusting in slumber- would let him. Damn it, he'd throw the tray and its contents away, tear at the duvet and blankets until there was nothing between them. He blinked suddenly, realising his eyes had fallen shut. Awkwardly clearing his throat, he tried to quash the illogical guilt that lay heavy in his stomach. By now, Walker was inspecting the hot chocolate critically.

"Can you even cook?" Walker said, with another dubious glance at the hot beverage. "Hot chocolate? Really?"

Brendan felt grateful that Walker was oblivious to his thoughts, and was therefore unaware that Brendan was now trying to think of anything that would stop his trousers from becoming tighter. "I don't make promises I'm incapable of keeping, Simon." He snapped. Immediately, he felt a pang of regret at his harshness; it wasn't Walker's fault that he looked far more delicious than any of the food on offer. Brendan picked up a pastry and chewed it thoughtfully. "They sometimes serve hot chocolate in continental breakfasts, Simon. Come to think of it, do you even know what a continental breakfast consists of?"

To his surprise, Walker roared with laughter, his head thrown back. Brendan kept his eyes on Walker's ones, that were now sparkling with amusement. "Actually, I don't know, Brendan. Sound posh though. You could have served me up an orange and some jam and I just would have thanked you. "

"Maybe next time I'll do that." Brendan shrugged, feigning nonchalance. He took another bite of his pastry for something to do.

"Maybe there won't be a next time," Walker said gently. Brendan didn't say anything, putting the pastry back down. Suddenly, his appetite had deserted him. "What's this?"

"Cinnamon roll, Simon."

"Is it good?" Walker seemed much younger, in the sun, without the forbidding grey jacket and his hair flopping into his eyes. To hide the desire that was slowly welling up inside him, like the flow of a tide, he resorted to sarcasm. "No, Simon. It tastes disgusting. Now shove it in your mouth and tell me what you think."

Walker muttered something about it "not being a Carry On film" before tentatively taking a bite. Brendan watched those pink lips sell around the bite, breaking off a bit which Walker swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his pale throat. Walker actually closed his eyes ad he ate it, a look of almost decadent enjoyment on his face.

"Brendan, that's amazing!" he declared, his eyes snapping open. "I can't believe I've never had one before. I'm actually quite hungry."

"Well, continental breakfasts aren't known for their generous portions, but I put quite a bit on your plate. I'm getting hungry too." But not for food.

"Help yourself." Walker shrugged, devouring another pastry. Brendan considered taking Walker up on his offer, helping himself to _him_, but instead he spread some strawberry jam on a piece of toast, stuffing the whole thing into his mouth. It was either that or watch Walker moan around another pastry like it was the loveliest ambrosia.

As he swallowed the bread, the sweet jam sliding down his throat, he became aware of a problem. Namely…his erection. Personally, he thought he deserved a medal for sitting opposite a topless, agreeable Walker, who was licking and biting at Parisian-style cuisine. But somehow he didn't think Walker would see it that way. A discreet glance down at his crotch showed him that _yes_, his cock was hard, and _yes_, it was pushing against his trousers. All Walker had to do was look down and he'd notice, could not _fail _to notice. "Down, boy" he murmured. Both men froze. Well, _shit_, Brendan thought. Had he really said it that loud? What was Walker, a straight man going to say, if…? When…?

"Um…" Walker said, looking down at Brendan's crotch. "Just so we're clear…?"

"Yes. I'm aroused. And the jam wasn't helping."

"The jam…?"

"I like jam." Brendan patiently explained, trying to supress the apprehension.

"Ok." Walker said, buttering himself a piece of toast. Brendan waited, but the man didn't elaborate.

"Simon…you're ok with this? " Brendan said quietly, scarcely daring to hope.

Walker put down the toast, giving Brendan a frank look. "As I was eating that rather delectable cinnamon roll and you were shovelling in jam and toast, all I was thinking was how I wish I was that toast."

"Is that so?" Brendan whispered, relocating the tray to the bedside table, without looking away once from Walker's face. "Jealous of a piece of toast, were you? Jealous of jam? " He straddled Walker, noting the flush that was reddening Walker's cheeks.

"Well…sounds stupid when you put it like that…" Walker mumbled, his arms pinned at his sides by Brendan's knees. Brendan leant in, his eyes fluttering shut, now determined to kiss those pouting lips. He was surprised (and displeased) when Walker shoved him away, looking rueful yet indignant.

"It's not you, Brendan…I haven't brushed my teeth yet- might have morning breath-"

Brendan shook his head. "Thought you were spurning me there, Simon. So, we won't kiss. That's fine." He plucked up the used butter knife from the tray, Walker's eyes following the movement, entranced.

"What are you doing?" Walker asked quietly, just a hint of uncertainty colouring his voice.

"Something good." Brendan immediacy answered, as he slid the flat side of the knife down Walker's chest. The silverware left a sticky line of strawberry jam down Walker's bare chest. He put the knife back down, and, without breaking Walker's gaze, leant down to lick the jam from Walker's skin, his tongue following the path of the jam perfectly. He felt Walker's chest tense under his mouth, and as he let his right hand drift up to lay with one of Walker's nipples, he heard the man gasp. Brendan closed his eyes, placing dozens of kisses onto the smooth skin. He didn't want to stop, he didn't want to break contact with this man in any way. He could never understand how his Cheryl could spend so much time with Lynsey, so that people would say they were 'Joined at the hip,' but he understood that now. He wanted to bury his face in this man's chest, stomach, shoulder and never have to face the day again, seeking endless solace in this smooth, pliant body. He looked up to find Walker holding the jam jar.

"What-?" Brendan started, but Walker just pushed him down on the bed. Brendan stared up at a cobweb hanging from the ceiling, still reeling in surprise at Walker's sexually aggressive move. He couldn't remember the last time someone had pushed him around. He let Walker pull at his trousers, the man over him impatiently swearing, accidentally breaking the fly as he pushed the material down Brendan's hips. Walker managed to get Brendan's trousers and underwear down to the mid-thigh area, before he either couldn't get it any further or realised his limitations and gave up. Brendan couldn't understand why this felt so sexy- perhaps it was a mixture of things. How unexpected and candid this was, here he was, on his back not even fully undressed. That made it seem more sinful somehow. Lost in his thoughts, he advice a very embarrassing squeak as he felt something damp and cool on his cock.

"What!" he started, trying to sit up, but Walker just pushed him down again. Then he saw the jar and knew what it was.

"Did you just put fecking jam on my-?"

"Brendan?" Walker said, his exertions of attacking Brendan's clothes making his voice breathy.

"What?"

"Shut up." Walker said, a grin on his lips, and without a word, he knelt down to lick at Brendan's cock. The moment he felt that wet tongue on his cock, licking away the cold, viscous jam, he arched up, his legs automatically trying to spread, even though the trousers prevented them from doing so. He gasped, feeling Walker take him in his mouth, until his dick, wet form jam, pre-come, Walker's saliva, was enveloped in hot wetness. He tried to thrust up, wanting to fuck that pretty mouth until he came down the man's throat, but his trousers, still biting into his thighs, stopped that notion. Bloody Walker. Bastard probably did that on purpose.

"You little…_cocksucker_…" he growled, and the vibrations of Walker's laughter made him gasp again, made him toss his head back with a keening whine. Walker seemed to get the message though, taking more of him into his mouth, swallowing the length as best he could. It was easier with the residue of the jam, coating his cock, and damn, if Walker wasn't _good_ at this. Walker hollowed out his cheeks and Brendan tried to thrust into his mouth as best he could, until the feelings began to overwhelm him and he was close to coming. He moaned, that familiar feeling of the tension building, preparing for release as he jerked on the bed.

"Simon…I'm-"

Walker made an "mm-hmm" noise in response, and that delicious vibration running along his cock was what made him come, his come spurting into Walker's mouth and down his throat As Brendan came with a cry. Walker continued to swallow, catching every last drop of the white substance, eventually pulling off from Brendan's cock with a wet pop.

As his vision sharpened and he once again became aware of his surroundings, Brendan caught sight of Walker's evident arousal.

"Do, do you?" he said vaguely, gesturing dreamily to it. He heard Walker's laughter, slightly hoarse from having taken so much of Brendan into his mouth. "I'm fine; I'll deal with it myself. Go to sleep, Brendan."

He really was very tired, Brendan thought drowsily. His eyes closed and as he began to fall through the layers of sleep, he felt Walker kiss his hair.

**Well, that's Continental Breakfast finished FINALLY! Let me know what you think. I'm currently working on a rather lengthy pwp which I still have to finish typing up. Your reviews are all the motivation I need. Bralker FTW.**


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